


Malfoy Christmas Miracle (One-Shot)

by Svengali_Khan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, Married Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 16:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svengali_Khan/pseuds/Svengali_Khan
Summary: Harry and Draco must overcome just one obstacle for their holiday to go well...and its name is Molly Weasley.





	Malfoy Christmas Miracle (One-Shot)

"What are you wearing?"

From the doorway to their spacious bedroom, Draco looked down his narrow torso to the only piece of clothing he wore. Cutting his eyes back, he smiled. "You don't recognize them?"

Harry smiled. "Of course I do but I'm wondering why you're wearing them?"

Crossing the room, the silver-haired man gave a broad smile. "I always wear them when we go and see your friends. They may not be enchanted but I feel like they bring me luck."

When he reached Harry, he let one hand rest on the man's narrow hip while the other caught hold of his neck. Draco brought their lips together in a soft, gentle kiss. It took a few seconds for him to get the desired response but when he did, he savored the reaction. Their kiss lasted a full minute.

"You don't need anniversary underwear to bring you luck," Harry whispered, resting his forehead against the other's. "They're coming around to the idea, you know. Even Ginny."

"It hurt her, us being together. Hurt a lot of people, I reckon."

"What did we know? We were fresh out of a battle for our lives, we clung to the first people to offer us some comfort. I did, anyway. I didn't get my head 'round what happened until our first weekend together. Anyone blaming us for how we sorted this all out can toss off, good and proper."

"Even Mrs. Weasley? She still looks at me as though she'd rather carve me up than have me sit at her dinner table." Draco kissed Harry again, a light peck. "You're still the darling, though."

"Don't worry, you'll be getting your own sweater soon enough. It's just going to take some time. You _were_ pretty awful to me while we were in school."

The blond smiled. "I was also turned into a ferret, attacked by a hippogriff—"

"Which you provoked."

Pushing Harry's naked body against the wall, Draco eased himself forward. "Are you provoking me now, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Not sure, Mr. Potter," Harry smiled back. "Am I?"

A third kiss was much deeper, causing them both to groan with the contact of their lips. Allowing himself to be maneuvered, Harry felt himself be lifted up and deposited on the windowsill. Bracing himself in the shallow alcove, he leaned back. The shock of the chilled glass against his flesh gave him a start. One leg came up, bending at the knee. His heel slid down the center of Draco's back while his other foot found purchase on the ledge. Warm lips kissed along the inside of his thigh, peppering his flesh with gentle torture.

Draco was interrupted by an insistent knock at the door. Before he could contemplate ignoring it, another knock followed. Frustrated, he let his head rest on the inside of Harry's thigh, his gray-green eyes rolling upward. Understanding blue eyes looked back down at him.

"You might as well answer it, you know he isn't going away."

"Can't he go and stay with Granger, just for a day or so?" Draco smiled. "I love him, I do. We haven't had any time to ourselves in almost six months."

"You've been very good with him. I appreciate your taking on sole parental duties while I was in the jungle. I know it had to be difficult for you."

"Of course it was difficult," Draco said, leaning into Harry's neck. "When it comes to behaving, he takes after you."

With a chuckle, Harry gathered the blond into his arms. The knocking grew more insistent. The two men embraced, sharing a final kiss before separating to find their respective pants and shirts. The knocking ended when Draco opened the door. He wore his best _angry father_ face, one he perfected over time.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes," the young boy answered, nodding. "I've lost my other sock."

"How many pairs of socks do you have, Thomas?"

"Only one with purple bats." The boy held up the singular sock in question. "Please help me find it?"

Taking a knee, Draco smoothed the thick blond curls away from the boy's face. Large blue eyes blinked back at him. A slender nose, a shy smile, pale skin, every bit Harry and himself, the young boy leaned in close, allowing himself to be gathered up in his father's arms.

"Are these _clean_ socks we're looking for?"

"I only wore them once before now."

"I see. I believe I might know where to look," Draco said, giving Harry a final glance. "Tell your father good morning."

Thomas waved at Harry, who waved back. "Good morning," they said together. "We're going to your uncle's for breakfast."

"Are we flying?"

Draco answered. "No. We are _not_ flying. We will be taking a normal car."

Harry and his son shared a secret smile. When he was left in the room alone, Harry washed his face, then finished dressing. Black pants, white shirt, a dark blue vest, and a slender blue tie were what he chose from his closet. A fitted black coat completed his ensemble. His dark hair was uncooperative, not wanting to lay right in any configuration, so he let it fall as it would. As he put his glasses on, he touched the scar on his forehead, still bright pink after all these years.

"Neville," Harry whispered, his fingers still on the pale ribbon of pink.

Not a day passed when he did not think of his friend and the sacrifice he made. Ron and Hermione stood with Mrs. Weasley while Voldemort declared, "Harry Potter is dead!" Neville, armed with the sword of Gryffindor, stood in front of the others, downtrodden and defeated. Lucius Malfoy stood on the other side of the broken courtyard, holding out a hand for his son. "Draco," he called. "Draco," Narcissa echoed, both of them wanting their son beside them on what they thought would be the winning side. Confused, scared, the young man being called for – did not move. Instead of going forward to be with his parents, he stepped back, away from them. When Voldemort raised a hand to strike him down, Neville moved in front of the boy. Limping, bleeding, he defended the person who caused him more than a great deal of grief.

George and Seamus were the first to leap forward as the Deatheaters began to surge. Lucius and Narcissa fled, abandoning the Dark Lord. Explosions tore through the ruined courtyard as Harry rolled out of Hagrid's arms onto the hard stone. Neville, sword in hand, faced down more than a few of the Deatheaters as McGonagall and Sinistra began throwing up shields, allowing the others time to get away. Neville's bravery was crucial in ending Nagini but he paid for his bravery with his life.

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"

"He saved our lives," Harry nodded.

"He was still a terrible Quidditch player," Draco said, coming into the room. His comment had the desired effect of bringing Harry out of the dark spiral of his own thoughts. "We need to be going. Your son is dressed and anxious, as is his father."

"Do you miss him?"

"Longbottom? Can't say I do, I didn't know him like you did, did I?"

"Sorry, I meant your father. Do you miss Lucius?"

"When mother died, he made it clear we weren't going to have Christmas dinners together anymore. He's gone, where I don't know, and I don't miss him."

"You're lying. Your eyes go all shifty when you're lying." Harry moved a lock of white-blond hair from Draco's forehead. "Thomas would like to know at least one of his grandfathers, the one still living."

"Not very subtle, Potter. Nice try though, using our son to make your point. No, my father made his choice and I made mine. We're just not meant to be a postcard-worthy family unit. I'd rather have that with you, Thomas, and our in-laws, such as they are."

"Careful, Malfoy," Harry said, cocking his head. "It almost sounded like you were giving the Weasleys a compliment. What will they think of you?"

"Who cares?" Draco said, taking Harry's hand. "Yours is the only opinion of me that matters."

***

Two hours before noon, a silver sports car slid into a parking spot outside a gray-fronted brownstone. Its stairs were framed by tall, dark green coiled topiaries in clay pots. Harry got out of the passenger side of the car first. Draco took a moment to unbuckle his son's seatbelt before getting out. Thomas jumped out after him, smoothing the front of his purple jumper.

"It's a little subdued," Harry said, coming around the back of the car.

Draco nodded. "I expected a bright purple front or lime green gables."

"Don't be unkind. We're here to mend fences, remember?"

Harry held out a hand for his son, who took it. Draco took the other and they led him across the sidewalk and up the steps of the brownstone. The knocker on the door recognized them. Moments later, the door opened, revealing a slim, stern woman with brassy red hair. The hard lines of her face softened as she held her arms open.

"Harry, dear!" She embraced the dark-haired man. "Little Thomas, how you've grown."

"I'm seven!"

"Eight in three months," the woman said, touching his cheek. "We're already planning your party."

When she straightened, Molly Weasley regarded Draco Malfoy with an icy gaze. "Good drive?"

"Tolerable," he said, sliding both hands into his pockets.

"Well, all of you come in. We're waiting on the boys." She led the way into the brownstone.

The back side of the door was an elegant burgundy. A matching knocker welcomed the new arrivals as the door closed. Wallpaper in the foyer was a mix of broad white stripes bisected by narrower gold and burgundy. An ornate table held a large bowl of knitted fruit. Harry smiled at this nod to Molly's old life. The living room was comfortable and decorated in brown and tan with tasteful gold accents. Over the fireplace, Harry was surprised by the portrait of the entire Weasley family. They stood in front of the pyramids, a replication of their trip to Egypt so many years ago.

"Happier times, eh, Harry?"

"Much happier," he agreed. "You got rid of the clock?"

"I don't need to be reminded of my children's absences."

Arthur came from the kitchen, then. "Harry! I thought I heard your voice!" He offered a hand, which the other man took. After they shook, Arthur turned to the other man, again offering his hand. "Draco. Good to see you."

"You, too, Mr. Weasley." Draco returned the firm grip.

"What about me? Is it good to see me, too?"

Turning toward the smiling boy, Arthur gave him an affected, questioning look. "Who are you, again? You can't be Thomas, you're much too tall."

"It's me. I _am_ Thomas!" The boy dissolved into giggles.

"So you are! Would you care to help with the last bit of lunch?" Arthur looked up. "You too, Harry?"

With a wistful look at his husband, the man took his son's hand and followed Arthur into the kitchen. Left alone in the living room, Draco slid both hands into his pockets again. Molly pushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

"First time in almost three years," she said, he tone muted.

"We've been busy."

"You've been avoiding us."

Sharp eyes found the woman glaring at him. "Why wouldn't I?"

"That boy—"

"Man. Harry is a _man_. He is not a boy and hasn't been for some time."

"All right. That man has been through a great deal—"

"Yes, I know. I've been there with him. He may not have gotten on with them but the Dursleys were the only family he had left. What happened to them was harder on him than even he knew, at the time. Retaliation for what he did to the Dark Lord came in many forms."

"You don't have to tell me about loss! I lost a son!"

"And I lost an aunt!"

Color rose in Molly's cheeks. "She was going to kill my daughter."

"The why doesn't matter. The fact is, you spilled Malfoy family blood, yet you treat me as though I'm the second Voldemort!"

"Your family was not blameless in what happened – nor were you! I know about your role in everything, and about how you treated my children."

"Yes, well, I was a child, myself, wasn't I?" Draco's gaze cooled. "Even if I didn't get possessed, steal a car, or set off fireworks within the castle, I deserve the same leeway."

"You were sent to _kill_ Dumbledore!

"But, I didn't do it, did I?" His tone remained even. "I didn't do a lot of things I was sent to do. I didn't cut your son's throat when I had the chance. I didn't kill your daughter, or Granger. Point of fact, I saved Harry at a moment he needed saving the most. I risked my life for him. More than once." He paused. "Because, I love him. Because, I've _alway_ s loved him."

Molly opened her mouth to say something but words did not come.

"From the first day I saw him, I felt an odd sort of tingling in my fingers. Sitting in the Great Hall, watching him be sorted and chanting, _not Slytherin_ , my heart fell a little. He didn't want to be as close to me as I wanted to be close to him. Imagine what he and I could have accomplished if we had been sorted into the same house."

"I shudder to imagine such a thing. Harry in Slytherin – indeed!"

"You never stopped to imagine me in Gryffindor, did you?"

Shock registered on her face. "You…wanted…"

"A different path than the one my father laid out for me from the time I could understand it all. Yes. I did. I wanted a different life for myself than the one I watched destroy him. Yes, I played the dutiful son, because it kept the peace. At school, however, behind closed doors and pulled four-poster curtains, I could be who I always was, who I could never show on the outside.

"Goyle, Zabini, a few of the Gryffindor boys, they helped." Draco paused, his eyes never wavering from Molly's. "None of them were Harry. The Vanishing Cabinet? I worked on it all the time because I needed it to work – but not for the reason everyone thought. I needed it to work because, when Voldemort came for Harry, it would be the one way out of the school. It would be the one way to save him. My aunt and the others used it for their own devices before I could do anything about it."

He moved across the room to the open window. Molly moved around the coffee table to a nearby armchair and sat down. Silence. A real and palpable entity moved between them. Through the glass, Draco watched the first stirrings of wind pick up dried leaves and blow them around. Molly watched the same wind swirl the ashes at the base of the fire.

"Did Harry ever tell you about almost killing me in the bathroom?"

"I don't think he ever mentioned it."

"Of course he didn't. Everything he ever did to me, that was the one thing he regretted more than all the others put together. He was using magic he did not understand in a way he could not control. The night we were married in London, he told me it was the single biggest mistake of his life." Draco did not turn toward the woman in the chair. He did, however, feel her eyes on him. "Not because he almost killed me, but because—"

"It would have taken you away from him."

He nodded. "And him from me."

"I don't trust you, Draco."

"I don't _need_ you to trust me, Molly."

Silence.

"I need you to trust Harry and his judgment of the man I am, now. The man who loves him and our son more than any other people on this planet."

"Including us."

Draco nodded. "Including you. You may not ever like me. I may not ever like you. Except Bill and Charlie, I like them, all right." He smiled at his own reflection. "But I need you to respect and honor my love for Harry. If you don't, you'll be hurting him far more than I ever did."

"Far more than the Dark Lord ever did," Molly said, putting a hand to her mouth. "I hear your words. I do. I'll do my best—"

"Your best isn't good enough." Now, Draco did turn. He crossed to the back of the beige sofa. "As the ugly green House Elf said in the Muggle movie, _do or do not; there is no try._ "

"You watched _Empire Strikes Back_ , did you?"

"I had to. Harry and Hermione said it was a staple of living." He rolled his eyes. "You've seen it?"

"Arthur has watched it a thousand times."

"I hate it," they said together. Draco smiled. "I've had enough of Dark Lords to last the rest of my life."

"Who would have thought, the thing we agree on is a terrible Muggle movie?"

Draco spread both hands along the back of the sofa. "We agree on something far more important. We both love Harry and will what we need to for him."

Before she could answer, the opening door from the kitchen caught Molly's attention. Thomas came into the living room, a hopeful look on his face alongside a dash of flour. His inquiring eyes focused on Draco, who gave him his full attention.

"Papa? Could you come help with cookies?"

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Papa? Not _father_?"

Coming around the sofa, Draco gave her a smile. "It's his preference. We're open to breaking old traditions in the Malfoy home." He held out a hand to his son. "Let's go and help your father with cookies, little one."

"One moment," Molly said, getting to her feet. "I will do as you ask but I will need something from you in return, Draco."

His frame went rigid, expecting a challenge. "What?"

She held her arms open. "A proper hug."

"I can do that," he said, accepting the gesture.

The door to the kitchen opened again. "Thomas, did you find your—" Harry's mouth came open. "I see you did. Hugging Mrs. Weasley. Right." He gave them both an appreciate smile. "Christmas miracles are the best sort of magic."

Disengaging from the embrace, Draco smiled at Harry. "Thomas tells me you need baking help, Mr. Malfoy. Why am I not surprised?"

"I could use some assistance," Harry smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Potter."

Molly took Thomas' hand and led the way out of the room. "Let's go and see what sort of mess they're making of my kitchen!"

"You're hugging now?"

The blond smiled. "I suppose I am." He crossed to where his husband stood. He eased Harry into his arms and nuzzled his neck. "You know the purple bat socks Thomas was looking for? I have on my own pair, if you'd like to see them."

"See your socks? I'd have to take your shoes off."

A series of small kisses began at the base of Harry's neck and led to his ear. "For a start. The Weasleys can watch Thomas for a few short minutes. I can think of a great deal the two of us could do in a few short minutes, Mr. Malfoy."

"What do we tell Mrs. Weasley when we don't go into the kitchen?"

Draco caught Harry's earlobe between his teeth, causing him to shiver. "We got lost." He said after he released it. "It is our first time in a new house."

"Which means we should spend time with our hosts. There will be plenty of time for this, later."

Leaning back, the blond gave his husband a puzzled expression. "How do you figure?"

"Now that Mrs. Weasley isn't wanting to strangle you, she'll be more apt to agree to watch Thomas when we want some time to ourselves."

"A bonus," Draco said with a smile. "I love you, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry smiled back. "I love you, as well, Mr. Potter."

After a sweet, but passionate kiss, Draco took hold of Harry's hand. "Let's go make some cookies."

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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